Looking Back

My favorite farmer swings wide the door to the combine; his smile welcomes us aboard.

Our faces wear unspoken gratitude as we climb the green steps to the corn-dusted cab. We rumble down rows of coppery promise, clipping away blonde wisps from an earthen scalp.

I look in the dusty rear-view mirror at fields laid bare in the labor. In the looking-back, I often see God most clearly. For His footprints on this farm remind us of His faithfulness.

” …at the proper time we will reap a harvest if we do not give up.”
— Galatians 6:9

One year ago today, that verse buoyed us. Snow had dressed our fields in white. Scott hadn’t harvested a single plant from these acres, and forecasts warned of more rain and snow.

God’s idea of “proper timing” seemed a sore miscalculation. Had He forgotten what day it was? Did He not see our fields? Did He not remember this was Scott’s first harvest without his father?

The sun melted the snow — along with a wife’s worry. As promised, God brought the harvest.

This year’s harvest? Perfect.

Why can’t they all be like this, Lord? I ask Him.

But from the seat of the combine, I remind myself that the same God oversees both kinds of harvest — the quick and the lengthy. And I will praise His name either way. Because if my praise is dependent on the timing of the blessings, I will have misplaced my faith and trust. I will have erred in finding my security in the gifts, rather than the Giver.

I sometimes think I see most clearly when I remember where I once was: neck-deep in doubt.

Some people say, “Never look back.” But I always do anyway.

Because looking back brings fullest voice to my present-day praise.

Mirror photo submitted as part of the High Calling’s PhotoPlay. Claire Burge asked participants to take an image of a reflection and adjust the aperture function to adjust the amount of light we allowed into our images. I used a 20.